


Super

by Brat_Simpson



Series: Thinking 'Bout You [3]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Spideypool - Freeform, Superfamily, Superhusbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:42:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brat_Simpson/pseuds/Brat_Simpson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Norman Osborn starts running for mayor, his girlfriend tells him he loves him, and an old friend shows up Peter starts thinking that maybe the Spiderman-thing isn’t so great after all.  With great power comes great responsibility, or something. Sequel to Thinkin Bout You.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peter Parker a.k.a.

The night she told Peter she loved him went like this:  Peter and his friends sat in the back of the limousine as it rode through traffic.  The limousine was Peter’s father’s; they were on their way to a fundraising benefit for Harry’s father, Norman Osborn, who was running for mayor of New York City.  Harry leaned a flask in Peter’s direction, and he pulled away from Gwen, his girlfriend, to take a sip.  This is when Gwen’s friend Liz leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Peter’s looks good in his suit,” she said.  The words came out smeared together.  Gwen smiled and looked over at Peter; he did look good in the suit.  He’d been looking good just in general lately; when they curled up together his body felt firmer and when they kissed she had to raise her heels a little off the ground to reach him.  _‘Hey tough guy, where’d those come from?_ ’ she’d asked one time they’d gone to the beach recently, eyes stuck on his abdomen.  He said he’d been training with his Aunt recently.

“Yeah, so, think tonight you guys might finally…” Liz said, wiggling her eyebrows.  Gwen smiled and shrugged.

“I don’t know, you know how Peter is,” she said and glanced at Peter.  His mouth was a twisted frown as he handed the flask back to Harry; the alcohol burned all the way down to his stomach.  It wasn’t that Peter wasn’t affectionate; she and Peter held hands between classes and brought her sunflowers when they went on dates.  It was just that after the dates were finished he would walk her home and leave her wanting.

“Are you sure he’s not, you know?” Liz pressed her two index fingers together; Gwen smirked and shoved Liz’s hands away.

“He’s not gay Liz,” Gwen whispered.  Liz had been asking about Peter’s sexuality since he and Gwen had started dating.  Two years ago; it wasn’t too long after the rumor that Peter was dating Wade Wilson had started actually.  And sure, they’d held hands at her party that one time, but Peter assured her with promises that it had never been that way. Wade moved away anyway. Nobody had heard from him.

“Flash is horny all the time,” Liz said, leaning against Gwen.  She readjusted herself and set her legs onto Flash Thompson’s lap.

“Hey babe how come Parker’s Dad has a limo?” Flash asked.

“Peter’s Dad’s an important guy,” Gwen answered quickly.  Peter’s ‘secret identity’ made her a bit nervous.  Peter had told her that Tony Stark was his biological father, which meant that his husband, Captain America, was also Peter’s dad.  He’d also told her it was easier if nobody from school knew who he was.

“Why’s he such a chump then?” Flash said quietly.  He nudged his girlfriend and asked her if she had the blunt that he’d given her earlier.  Gwen glanced at Peter and then back to Liz who was searching through her purse.

            “Guys, you can’t smoke weed in Peter’s Dad’s limo.”

            “It’s fine,” Peter said.  “This limo’s seen worse.”  Liz smirked and resumed her search.

            “You smoke Parker?” Flash asked. Peter raised an eyebrow. Flash had never really liked Peter, who shared the feeling, but the fact that they went on a lot of double dates together kept them civil.  Every now and then Flash would ask Peter a that seemed cleanhanded but carried the weight of a challenge; _‘Parker, you drink right?’_ or _‘I lost it at 15, what about you Parker?’_

“Are you kidding, Peter learned from Wade,” Harry said, and they all paused.  There was a bleak pause each time anybody mentioned Wade in front of Peter where nobody spoke because they were analyzing Peter for his reaction.

            “It’s true, I’m a champ,” Peter said, nodding his head.  He raised an eyebrow and kept eye contact with Flash.  “Got a lighter?”

 

            Peter had almost fallen asleep during Norman Osborn’s speech.  He’d known Mr. Osborn for years and he’d taken some deep hits just to blow thick clouds of smoke into Flash’s face.  But after the speech, of which the only part Peter remembered was a diatribe Mr. Osborn had gone on about keeping “the Superhero problem,” in check.  This was a media term, “The Superhero problem.” It was usually heard on Fox News; the women from The View also debated about it.  The question of whether Superheroes were worth the damage they caused was part of public discourse now, especially because of the rise of “Vigilante Superheroes,” another media term, like Spiderman.  Norman Osborn was against Spiderman.  Gwen yawned and Peter put his arm around her shoulder.

            “Bored?” Peter asked.

            “A little,” she said, leaning her head against him.

            “Yeah Harry, why can’t your dad be a Democrat? There’d be more celebrities here if he were,” Liz said.  Harry flicked her off and pointed at a table in the distance where Donald Trump was sitting.  Gwen rolled her eyes while Liz nodded in approval.

            “I’d do him, he’s rich,” she said.  Gwen gagged.

Somebody else was giving a speech now, but Peter never caught the name of who it was.  The back of his neck was tingling; the feeling blushed down his back and across his shoulders and then settled in his stomach.  His periphery started to blur and everything seemed to slow down around him. This happens sometimes, usually before something bad was about to happen.  Peter felt everything around him like a twitch in the gut; he called it his‘spidey-sense.’  He glanced toward the ceiling just before it exploded.

            Peter pulled Gwen out of her seat before the rest of the crowd had figured out what was going on.  Over screaming Peter looked into her eyes and then pointed toward a set of stairs.

            “Go, I’ll meet you outside the building,” he said.

            “But—“ Her eyes were wide.

            “I’ll meet you outside,” Peter said and pushed Gwen lightly toward the stairs.  She looked back at him but her legs kept moving anyway.  Peter turned around to see a man hoverboard in through the burning hole in the ceiling.  Peter cursed under his breath and ran to find the nearest bathroom.

            When he finally found a stall, Peter pulled out his Spiderman mask; he always kept it in his back pocket.  He heard another explosion and a new wave of screams crashed over the sounds of people scuffling to get out of the building.  He didn’t have the rest of his uniform so Spiderman came out from the bathroom wearing just a white undershirt and with suit trousers.

            He shot a web from his wrist in the direction of the Green Hoverboarder.  It stuck to what appeared to be a suit of green, scaled armor.  The Hoverboard Monster turned around to face Peter; he was wearing a purple cowl but his face was green, almost like the color of the Hulk’s skin, and he had bright yellow eyes covered in red veins with dark beady pupils.

            “Gotcha’,” Peter said and shot another web toward the Hoverboard Monster face.  This was when time slowed down again.  Peter’s head snapped right just before a bullet zoomed over his left shoulder.  He turned around to see a man in a costume holding a gun in one hand with a sword across his back; he looked like a red ninja, with large dark eyes.

            “Hey Spidey!” the Red Ninja said, waving the hand that had the gun in it.  Peter quickly shot two web blasts at him.  The Red Ninja managed to dodge one of the web blasts but was hit in the arm by another, causing him to drop his gun.  Peter regretted taking so many large hits from that blunt.  Peter coated the gun in a layer of webbing.

            Just as the Red Ninja was pulling the sword from out of its sheath Peter noticed Gwen standing near the stairway he’d left her at earlier. 

            “Gwen, get out of here!” Peter yelled to her.  The Green Hoverboarder must have heard Peter yell because he quickly flew in her direction.

            “You!” he shouted as he sped toward Gwen.   Peter shot a web at Hoverboard Monster and back flipped just in time to avoid Red Ninja’s.  He sent another blast of webbing at the Red Ninja’s face.

            Peter had missed the Green Hoverboarder; he was off of his hoverboard now and had Gwen pushed up against a wall.  Peter ran over, shooting webs from his wrists at the Hoverboarder’s back.

            The Hoverboarder turned around and glared at Spiderman.  Peter glanced at Gwen; her face had retreated into her shoulders and she was shaking with tears.  Peter heard another gunshot and turned around to see that the Red Ninja had  found another gun, and it was pointed at him.

            Time slowed down again as Peter stared at the gun.  The sounds of screaming citizens seemed distant, but he could hear the sound of the Red Ninja’s finger on the trigger.  This was just before the arrow shot through the Red Ninja’s arm.

            Peter turned his head in the direction the arrow had come from to see Hawkeye (or Uncle Clint, when he wasn’t doing this) and Black Widow (Aunt Natasha).  Black Widow was holding a gun in her hand and Hawkeye had his bow poised with another arrow ready.

            Peter heard a whirring sound and they all looked over to see the Hoverboarder had gotten back on to his hoverboard and was flying toward the hole in the ceiling.  Natasha fired a few shots at him but none of them landed.

            When Peter, Black Widow and Hawkeye turned back they saw the Red Ninja running off toward a window.  Hawkeye managed to hit Red Ninja with another arrow just before he dove through it.

            “You should really work on your aim, Widow,” Peter said.

“Why don’t you leave this to the pros, kid?” Hawkeye asked.

            “If you government guys would do a better job I wouldn’t have to,” Peter shrugged.

            “Enough, let’s just get these civilians to safety,” Black Widow said, rolling her eyes.   

***

            “God it was so horrible,” Gwen said as Peter handed her a mug filled with tea.

            “Yeah, yeah I bet,” Peter said.  They were alone now, at the Avengers Tower, sitting on the couch in his living room.

            “But Spiderman totally saved me,” Gwen said, smiling.  She looked into her mug for a few seconds before fixing her green eyes on Peter.  “What happened to you though, where were you?”

            Peter glanced at the ground.  He felt a tugging in his gut; he hated lying but he’d had to do it a lot to Gwen (and his fathers) ever since he’d started doing the Spiderman-thing.

            “Uh, I went to make sure Harry and the others were okay and then I ran down the stairs to find you… but you weren’t there,” Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck.

            “Sorry,” Gwen said.  “I just got worried about you.”

            “It’s okay,” Peter said, putting his arm around her.  Gwen leaned in toward him, and put her hand on Peter’s leg.  She stood her hand up on it’s fingers and made it crawl up Peter’s leg like a spider.  Peter smiled, but when the spider crawled toward his zipper he pulled away.

“I think my dads are gonna’ be home soon.”

“Oh, “ Gwen said.  She bit her lip and put her hand in her lap.

After a few long seconds Peter apologized.

“No, it’s—“ she started.  “Peter, are you a virgin?” she asked.

Peter’s cheeks turned red and he felt another guilty tug in his gut because he knew he was going to have to lie again.

“I’m just trying to wait for the perfect moment to lose it,” he said.  Gwen nodded, and then she started laughing.

“What?” Peter asked, confused enough that he didn’t remember to act offended by her laughter.

“Nothing it’s just I thought you didn’t like me, or something stupid,” she said between laughs.  Peter chuckled, mostly because she was laughing.

“That _is_ stupid, of course I like you,” he said.  He kissed her.

“I love you Peter,” she said after pulling away.  Peter swallowed hard and felt little hot pinpricks on his cheeks. Gwen had never said that before.  She looked at him, smiling, but her eyes looked insecure.

Peter opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t sure what, when the elevator dinged.  His fathers were home; Captain America and Iron Man to the rescue.


	2. Hit Monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norman Osborn is running for mayor of New York City, and one of his main platforms is getting rid of the superheroes, whose battles with villains cause unprecedented destruction to the city. This just happens to be the time that Peter starts doing the Spiderman thing. In which Peter fights a green man on a glider, a red ninja, his girlfriend loves him. He also drinks and smokes before saving the day; with great power comes great responsibility, or something.

In the dark, with his eyes closed Peter heard his fathers come in through the elevator, back home from their latest S.H.I.E.L.D. mission.  He’d texted them earlier so they would know he was fine after the attack at the Osborn fundraiser and they said they’d probably be back at around four in the morning.

            “Jarvis,” Peter whispered, his voice croaking.  “What time is it?”

            “6:14, sir,” his room whispered back.  Peter’s groan eventually turned into a yawn as he sat up and stretched, savoring the tension in his muscles.

He blindly followed his fathers’ voices down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Peter finally opened his eyes to see his Pop passing his Dad a band-aid with a stern expression.  Tony pressed the band-aid over a cut on his forearm and winced.  He looked rough; he had dark, tired circles underneath his eyes and his body looked both tense and deflated at the same time.

            “What happened?” Peter asked, rearing his head back slightly as he trudged toward the refrigerator for orange juice.

            “I’m glad you’re alive too, son,” Tony said. 

            “Yeah, good thing Spiderman was there to save me.”  Tony smirked a little to wide and nodded.  Steve grunted; he wasn’t necessarily a fan of Spiderman.  He didn’t like the idea of some civilian running around fighting crimes.

              “How does pancakes sound for breakfast?” Steve asked.

            “We don’t have stuff to make pancakes,” Peter said and wiped orange juice off his upper lip.

            “Well, if you go to Mr. Cheng’s to get some your Dad and I will make eggs and bacon,” Steve said.  He was already in the refrigerator pulling out ingredients.

            “Fine,” Peter groaned, starting back toward his room.

“And put on real clothes, don’t just leave the Tower in your pajamas,” Tony said as Peter passed him.  Peter let his head fall back on his shoulders and groaned loudly.

            After pulling on a t-shirt and jeans from the floor he decided to grab his camera too.  He’d taken photography as an elective for his art credit this year, and he’d actually been enjoying it, enough that he tried to take a few pictures everyday.  Once, Tony had asked if he wanted to help him work in the lab but Peter had declined so that he could take some pictures before the sun went down.  It had made Steve smile, like he and Peter were sharing some sort of secret.  Steve had taught him a few things about composition and form.

As he was nearing the kitchen to tell his fathers goodbye he got a strange feeling in his gut, a weaker version of the spidey-senses tingling.

            “Well, have you considered…” Peter heard his Pops say from the kitchen.  He also heard an occasional dinging sound of a fork hitting glass as Steve stirred eggs and milk in a bowl.

            “Considered what Steve?” Tony said.  His voice was sharp. Peter heard bacon start to spit and sizzle as it curled on a pan.  Steve stopped stirring.

            “Retiring?”

            The bacon started to sputter.  And there was a small ding as Steve set the bowl down and then he crossed his arms and waited for Tony to say something.  But all Peter heard was the bacon.

            “You’re just maybe getting too old—“

            “Just drop it, Steve,” Tony said. The smell of frying bacon started to turn smoky.

            “Hey, I’m going out now!” Peter said.

            “O-Okay!”  Tony said, and then, “oh shit, the bacon’s burning.”  Peter heard Steve start stirring the eggs again as he pressed the down button on the elevator.

“Keep an eye on them, Jarvis,” Peter said once he was inside.

“I always do sir,” the elevator said back.

           

            Smile Deli wasn’t too far from the Tower, and it was just out of the way enough that Peter felt inconspicuous shopping there.  It was his usual place for quick groceries and so when the bell over the door jingled as he walked in he expected to hear Mr. Cheng’s over-enthusiastic greeting.

            Usually there would be early-2000’s rap hits playing from a radio next to the cash register (Mr. Cheng would say, “It keeps the lame people out of the store”), but there was nothing.

            “Mr. Cheng,” Peter called out.  He glanced toward the bathrooms and thought that Mr. Cheng might be in there, but the sick tingling in his gut told him otherwise.

            Peter’s foot slipped as he walked toward the men’s room door.  He caught himself by pressing a sticky hand to the wall and looked down at his converse.  The white rubber soles were stained red. 

            Peter’s hand was actually pressed against the door to the back office. From underneath the door a puddle of blood was slowly pooling.  Peter tried to open the handle but it was locked; another cold shock of nerves through his stomach.

            He looked around before grabbing the handle tightly and breaking the door open.  The door felt heavy, and when Peter pulled it back Mr. Cheng’s body fell back onto the green and white floor tiles with a wet smack.  His face was red, covered in blood.  His eyes were still open and they had blood on them too; it was coming out of his nose and mouth.

            Peter inhaled sharply.  There was a hole at the top of Mr. Cheng’s head. Peter locked his eyes forward and glanced into the back office.  There were four more bodies, men in suits, on the floor. They’d all shot in the head too.

            Peter glanced at one of their faces; he was blonde and the blood had stained his hair.  Peter felt sick; he recognized that guy.  He’d seen him at Harry’s place doing security when they hosted big events.  He glanced around at the other bodies and recognized a few faces from the last Osborn Christmas party.  He turned away and felt like he was going to be sick.  He leaned forward and vomited; it burnt his throat on the way out and tasted like acid.

           

            “So they were just… dead?”  Steve said  at the kitchen table next to Peter later.   Tony had fallen asleep on the living room couch while Steve was cooking the eggs.

            “Yeah.”

            “And you called the police and everything?” Steve rubbed his hand up and down Peter’s back.  He nodded.

            “They said it looked professional.”  Steve’s hand stopped.

            “Like a hit man?  For Mr. Cheng?”  Peter nodded.

            “And whoever those other guys were,” Peter said, as if to remind his Pop that he’d just seen five dead bodies.

            “I’m sorry Peter,” Steve said, pulling Peter in for a hug.  “I should’ve just gotten that pancake mix myself.”

            “It’s cool Pop,” Peter said.  He knew it had to happen anyway, seeing a dead body.  If he was going to be a superhero then this was part of the territory, he just didn’t think it would be like this.  He didn’t think it would be someone like Mr. Cheng.

            ‘ _And besides, shouldn’t you be used to death by now anyway_?’ The thought passed through his head like a dark laugh.  And it’s true, it’s not the first dead body he’s seen, but his Mom had been dead for six years now. 

“I think I’m just gonna’ head to bed,” Peter said.  Steve nodded.

“Love you Pete.”

“Love you too Pop.”

***

There wasn’t much to the Spiderman costume yet, if you could even call it a costume; Peter couldn’t.  It was pretty much just civilian clothes at this point: jeans, boots, a jacket and his mask.  The jacket was at least bulletproof (which made it heavy); it was red with blue sleeves and had a large spider on the front.

            Peter was crawling up the side of a building to get a better view of the area.  He heard his Uncle Clint’s voice in his head, explaining the benefits of a birds-eye-view.  He snorted and then tensed.  He felt a tingling in his stomach; spidey-senses.  He pressed his body closer to the building and continued upward toward the top.

            Someone was talking to himself on the roof.  It was hard for Peter to see him at first, but as he approached the side of the building Peter was clinging to Peter started to make out that he was wearing red and black.  As he came closer it became clear that he was the same guy who’d tried to shoot Peter at the Osborn event; Peter felt a stinging sensation in his gut.  He crawled onto the roof of the building, keeping to the shadows and waited for the man to come closer.

            “We should not have eaten so many tacos,” the man said to himself, clutching his stomach.  He was wearing his mask (red, with two large black circles around the eyes) and still had his sword strapped to his back.  Peter’s body tensed, the man was close now.  “Well I can’t help being awesome,” the man said, as if he were talking to someone.

            Peter shot him in the face with a web.  He sprang from his position in the shadows at the man and threw his body into a punch at aimed at his face.  It slammed into his jaw and Peter heard something crack.

            He hit the ground on all fours and instantly whipped around to keep the man in his sight.  The man peeledthe web off of his face and did a double-take when he saw Peter.

            “Spidey? How’s it going buddy!”

            Peter made to spring at the man but the question made him falter for a second and he stumbled; he tried to throw his movement into a punch again but the man dodged him this time.

            “Hey man—“

            “Hey man?” Peter asked, and fired more webs.  “Are you not the same guy who shot bullets at me yesterday?”

            The man, after recoiling from a web shot to the chest, scratched his head as if he was actually trying to remember.

            “Ohhhh,” he said, and snapped his fingers. “The Osborn thing, right?”  Peter fired another web at his leg.

            “Yeah the Osborn thing, _buddy._ ”

            “Whatever man, a job’s a job.  Besides I didn’t actually kill you, did I?  I could’ve if I wanted to though, you were way off your game.”  Peter was grateful for his mask as he blushed; he had been a inebriated the last time they’d fought.  Peter was about to shoot the man with a web before he realized something.

            “Wait, what do you mean a job’s a job?”

“Like a job’s a job, man.  A monkey’s a monkey.  Robert Downey Jr. is Robe—“

            “But you were hired then?”

            “Yeah, they told me something was going down at the Osborn fundraiser, and they paid me to keep you distracted.”

            “Not to kill me?”

            “Nah,” the man said, waving it off, as if it were nothing.

            “But,” Peter started.  Something felt off; this guy who had just tried to kill him was now just spilling out information to him as if they were pals.  “But why?”  The man shrugged. 

            “No,” Peter said.  “Why are you just telling me all this?”  The man glanced down at the ground and shifted his weight, like he felt guilty.

            “I want to be friends,” he said.  Peter almost laughed; the guy, who had a height and build similar to his Pops’, looked more like a sweet puppy than anything.

            One time, a couple months ago his Aunt Natasha sat him down and handed him a flask.  This was after one of their training sessions; she was teaching him some different fighting styles and occasionally would share tips she’d picked up as a spy.

            Natasha had winked at Peter after she handed him the flask, like it was their secret.  Peter smiled and tilted his head back and swallowed from the flask.  It tasted sweet and artificial; he’d expected something harder from Aunt Nat; she was Russian after all.

            “Peter,” his aunt had said, still smiling “sometimes the sweetest faces are the ones you need to watch out for.”  Peter felt his stomach start to churn.

            “Now you’ll remember,” she said, and then Peter felt the churning feeling in his stomach travel up and out of his mouth.  His aunt rubbed his back, as he was standing, doubled over.  “It’s just Ipecac,” she said, and handed him a paper towel to wipe his mouth.

 

            Peter tensed and then sprang into a kick.  He hit the man in the chest, knocking him onto the ground.

            “You really expect me to believe that you tried to kill me yesterday and want to be friends today?”

            “Well, yeah, see I’m trying to become a hero—“

            “Heroes don’t murder other heroes,” Peter said.  He was on top of the man, his hands clenching the fabric on his chest.

            “Well, as long as I save more people than I kill in the end it all sort adds up—“  
            “That’s not how it works,” Peter said.  “You can’t be a hero and a hit man.”  Peter remembered Mr. Cheng.  The cops had said it looked like a professional job.

            “Hey,” Peter said, louder than he’d expected.  He tightened his grip on the man’s outfit. “What do you know the job on a Mr. Cheng at Smile Deli?”  The man laughed.

            “Nothing, but I did hear the one about the two rabbis who walked into an Irish Catholic bar,” he said.  Peter punched the man in the face; the man’s jaw smacking hard against his knuckles again.

            “I’m serious!”

            “Can you avoid the face please?” the man asked.  “I think one of my teeth is falling out.”

            “Mr. Cheng!” Peter shouted, shaking the man.  “Smile Deli!”

“I don’t know anything,” the man said, grabbing Peter’s arms.  He was strong.  Peter tried to pull away but his grasp was too tight.  “I really don’t.”

            “I don’t believe you,” Peter said, he was shaking slightly.  He managed to rip one of his arms free and quickly fired a web at the man’s face.  Peter jumped off of the man and started running.

            “I could find out,” the man said. 

Peter skidded to a stop. 

“If it was a pro job, I could probably fill in a few blanks for you, just let me take a look at it.”

            Peter turned around and tilted his head. “Why would you want to?”

            “Because then you’d owe me,” the guy said.  Peter could hear the smiling in his voice.

            “Owe you what?”

            “You’d have to teach me how to be a hero,” the man said.  Peter groaned; this guy was a fucking weirdo.  But he needed to find out who’d shot Mr. Cheng and those Osborn guys.  Against his conscience, and the memory of his Aunt poisoning him, he thought this guy might be for real.  He could at least try and get some info out of him.

            “Fine, deal.  As long as you help me find the guy that did it.”

            The man scrambled up from the ground and started to sing.  “Spidermannn, and Deadpooool, teaming up to save the woooooorld!”

            “So that’s your name then?” Peter asked, kind of regretting his decision already.

            “Yep! Deadpool, the Merc with the Mouth.  Don’t wear it out,” he said.  “Or, you know, do.  Say, you like Mexican food?”

***

            “Spidey?” Deadpool said, waving his hands in front of Peter’s face.  They’d snuck into Smile Deli. When they’d gotten to the back office Peter had just frozen, looking around at the scene.

            “What?” Peter asked, his voice harsh.

“You okay?”

            “Yeah, fine.”  Peter shook his head and then looked around; there was still blood everywhere but the bodies were gone.  It was probably best if he kept his eyes on his feet.  “So do you know who did this?”  Deadpool laughed.

            “What?” Peter asked.  He tensed, starting to get the feeling that this _was_ some sort of trap.

            “You’re not gonna’ buy this,” Deadpool said.

            “Try me,” Peter said. Deadpool sighed and then nodded.

            “His name’s Hit-Monkey.”   Peter tilted his head.  He’d heard worse names before (The Penguin anyone?).   “He’s a hit man… who’s a monkey.”

            Peter hung his head; he actually wished it were a trap.

            “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

            “I guess you must be psychic then,” Peter said.  He turned to make his way out of the room; he couldn’t stand to be there anymore, especially if this Deadpool guy was just gonna’ jerk him around.

            “Wait! Don’t you want to stop him?”

            “Look, I don’t know what type of game you’re trying to pull—“

            “Spidey—“

            “Shut up.”  Peter held up his hand.  His Spidey-senses were going off.  He spun around toward the door just as the sound of bullets filled the room. 

Peter jumped up toward the ceiling, clinging to a corner.  But the bullets weren’t coming at him, instead, they were aimed at Deadpool.

            Peter looked back at the doorway, and standing there was a monkey with guns in both hands.  Peter didn’t believe it and blinked a few times, wondering if there was a gas leak or if he’d somehow been poisoned.  But there were definitely bullets being fired.  Deadpool reached for his sword but his arm was hit.  Peter blinked a few times again and then fired a web at the monkey, hitting him in the face.

            “Deadpool let’s go,” Peter said, dropping to the ground.  He grabbed Deadpool’s arm and pulled him out of the room.  Peter could still hear the monkey’s howls as they burst through the front doors of the store.

           

            “Shit, we really need to get you to a hospital man,” Peter said once they’d made it to the safety of a rooftop.

            “Nah, I just need about 20 minutes.  And some enchilladas.”

            “What?”

            “They’re Mexican… you know, they’re sort of like burrito—“

            “No, 20 minutes?”

            “To heal,” Deadpool said, like it were obvious.  Peter nodded, “Like a Captain America type deal?”  Deadpool laughed darkly.

            “Yeah something like that. “  He sighed and then straightened. “So, uh, how about we get back to the super secret Spidey-cave.”

            “I don’t have a Spidey-cave,” Peter said, actually smirking at that one.  “I live with my da—I don’t have  Spidey-cave.”

            “Well, what if I got one for you.  I’m filthy rich you know.”  That one made him smirk too.

            “Impressive,” Peter deadpanned.  “Nah, let’s just call it a night man.   Here I’ll give you my number, meet up tomorrow and get back on the trail?”

“Uh, but,” Deadpool glanced at his arm.  Peter tilted his head.

            “Are you… scared?”

            “Well, not _scared_ , but… I mean, he’s fucking Hit-Monkey!”  Peter burst into laughter.

            “It’s not funny!  Hit-Monkey goes after hit men, and when he finds them he kills them. Always!”  Peter tried to stop laughing but it was too much.  A two foot tall monkey carrying guns had just attacked them, and had probably killed the eccentric grocer he’d known for years.

            “Wait,” Peter said, his laugh fading.  “He only goes after hit men?”  Mr. Cheng had been murdered with those Oscorp guys.  “Was Mr. Cheng a hit man?”  Wade shrugged.

             “Hit-Monkey only kills hit men, so...”

            “But…” Peter tried to imagine Mr. Cheng making a deal to murder someone.  Negotiating prices.  Imagined him loading a gun.  He shook his head.

            “So we should stick together,” Deadpool said, nodding.

            “I’m not a him man.”

            “Yeah but come on, we’re partners now!”

            “No we’re not,” Peter groaned, rubbing his temple.  He looked at Deadpool; he guessed he could tell his Dads he was staying at Harry’s.  It would give them more time to argue and get over this retirement thing anyway, as if Tony would ever let it happen.  “I guess we could go to a hotel.”

            “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Deadpool and Spiderman living like roommates!”

 

            In the shower at the hotel Peter wiped soapy suds from his face.  He leaned back into the warmth of the water lingering in the feeling of it.   He thought about Mr. Cheng and snorted.  _‘Mr. Cheng was a hit man.  And he was murdered by a monkey, who was also a hit man.’_

            “Hey, I need to use the bathroom,” Deadpool said from the other side of the bathroom door.

“No,” Peter groaned.  “Just wait until I’m done.”

            “But I ate all those tacos!” Wade whined.  They’d stopped for tacos before getting to the hotel and Wade had actually bought 40 of them, in cash.  He was still eating them when Peter went in for his shower.

            “Fine,” Peter said.  He was about done anyway.  He turned off the water and stepped out.  He looked at his foggy reflection in the mirror and sighed.  Being a superhero was weird sometimes.

            “I need that bathroom now!” Deadpool moaned and then shoved his body against the door, busting into the bathroom.

            “What the fuck!” Peter yelled jumping back.  His towel fell to the ground and he scrambled to grab it.  “Get out!” he yelled.  He looked up at Deadpool while he wrapped his towel around himself again.  Deadpool was just staring down at him with his head tilted.

            “Parker?” 

Peter felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, and it wasn’t the Spidey-senses this time.  He felt himself start to breathe faster and could feel his pulse beating in his head.  He need to sit down.  He started up at the dark black circles that surrounded Deadpool’s eyes.

            “…Wade?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you guys liked it, sorry it’s so long. As you can tell I’m not that good at writing action scenes but the more I do it I’m sure it’ll come along. I should be updating about once every week now so look out for that. I’m also working on a Stony AU at the moment.


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